


Bunk-In

by plaidagladalecki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series, Summer Camp AU, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:03:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7586260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidagladalecki/pseuds/plaidagladalecki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cute summer camp au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bunk-In

“Hey, let’s tell ghost stories!” A young camper suggested. It was late at night at Camp Tillamook, and the boys’ excitement from the bonfire they just returned from was coming to a lull. Sam and Dean had been there for five weeks so far, half because their dad wanted them out of his way, half because he had heard of some suspicious happenings at the camp. So far they’d had nothing but a couple of reports about startling sounds of breaking sticks in the forest and a few dead birds outside the cabin. AKA, nothing that would lead either of them to believe that anything out of the ordinary was happening.  
The boys gave each other a look, both debating whether or not to listen to the most-likely bullshit stories these kids were going to tell. They decided to just ride it out and try not to outwardly show their extensive knowledge of the paranormal. Hell, maybe even one of the stories could be a lead.  
After sitting back and listening to two consecutive tales of mysterious nighttime footsteps in their homes and one recount of a game of Bloody Mary, Sam and Dean decided that it was time to go to bed. Dean laid down on the bottom bunk and Sam ambled his way up to the mattress above him, turning his face away from the wall and flopping his hand over the side railing as a force of habit, reaching out to Dean.  
The boys had always been close, but these past weeks have brought them even more so. Of course they had always lived together; they were brothers, after all. But the two weren’t quite used to eating every meal side by side, sleeping one on top of the other every night, never being allowed to escape from each other. There was never alone time. There were no more nights where Dean didn’t come home because he was off on a hunt and Sam was alone. They had been living in tight, close quarters for five weeks, and it was messing with their chemistry a little bit.   
Sam could swear some nights that in the early hours of the morning, when Dean thought Sam was still fast asleep, he felt a hand belonging to his brother reach up and grasp Sam’s own. Sam didn’t pull away, but he didn’t squeeze back either. They just held hands like that for a minute or two, however long Dean needed, until he let go and they fell asleep again.  
Little occurrences such as this were common as time passed at summer camp. They would brush hands while clearing for dinner or play a few seconds of “footsie” under the table. A few nights they were guilty of sharing blankets when Sam climbed down to Dean’s bed, Dean cuddling his younger brother after a nightmare. They were never caught, so they remained like that until Sam’s tears were all dry. Dean would set a quiet alarm for the morning so that Sam had time to climb back up to bed before the rest of the cabin woke up. The rest of the boys in their packed cabin never noticed, just thought that they were two perfectly normal brothers. The pair let them believe that, too, even though they both knew that something special, something different, had been steadily forming over the weeks.  
Tonight, drifting off to sleep to the sounds of snotty boys telling more stories of cloudy apparitions, Sam felt a brisk and light brush of lips against his cheek as the cabin counselors were calling for “lights out”. Dean brushed Sam’s shaggy hair back out of his face, rubbing a thumb against Sam’s temple, before sinking back down onto his own squeaky mattress, listening to the kids’ stories just in case.  
“Hey, guys? Can I tell a story now?” Whispered a shy boy excluded from the circle of storytellers.   
The group groaned under their breath but scooted back to make way for the kid anyway.  
“It happened a few days ago when I was coloring by the big forest, out by the dining hall. It was really scary.”  
Dean’s eyes shot open. Did he just say that something happened here? Maybe there is a case here after all.  
Some of the boys muttered words of approval and he went on.  
“So I sat down at the picnic table outside the building, and I was there for maybe five minutes before I heard a bunch of weird sounds like branches breaking and growling coming from the trees. So, I got up and walked into the woods. I didn’t see anything, so I turned around and headed back to the table when I saw it. It looked like Bigfoot--stop laughing, guys!--only bigger and scarier and really skinny. I’m not kidding! I only saw it for a few seconds before it disappeared but I was really weirded out after that.”  
The other kids dismissed him as the last story of the night and started to head back to their beds. Dean, who had heard the whole story, popped up and shook Sam awake.  
“Sammy, did you hear what he said?”  
“What? No, Dean. Wanna know why? Because I was trying to sleep.”  
“Whatever. That kid was describing a damn Wendigo, I’m sure of it. We have to check it out tomorrow, we’ll find a way.”  
“Okay, yeah, sure. We’ll do that tomorrow. Can I go back to sleep now?” Asked Sam, eyes still half-closed from having just been woken up.  
“Yeah, Sammy. Go back to sleep,” Dean said, licking his lips slightly. He pressed a light kiss next to Sam’s eye and then quickly disappeared back down to his own bed. Sam smiled sweetly and returned his arm to its previous position of reaching over the railing for Dean.   
The next morning, after breakfast, the two boys escaped from their morning activities to go scope out the area where that kid spotted a Wendigo. When they arrived there, they set out a few yards into the forest before Dean abruptly stopped and turned around to face Sam.  
“What, did you hear something?” Sam asked, startled by Dean’s action.  
“No, it’s just, now that we’re really alone…”  
Before Sam knew what was happening, Dean’s plush lips were pressed firmly onto his own. Dean pulled away, looking for approval in Sam’s eyes. Before Sam could say anything, Dean burst out, “I’ve wanted to do that this whole time, Sammy.” Sam just nodded, registering the situation. He took a few silent steps toward Dean, backing him against a large tree. Sam grabbed onto Dean’s shirt collar and thrusted his older brother’s face towards his own, sweetly placing gentle kisses onto his brother’s lips.  
Then, Dean grabbed onto Sam’s shoulders and twisted his body around so that Sam was against the tree trunk this time. Their kisses became more and more furious and hard, their thirst for the other finally being quenched. Once every other kiss, Dean would utter a hoarse “Sammy”, groping all over his younger brother’s body, looking for a new place to feel for the first time.  
“What about that Wendigo?” Sam asked breathily after a couple of minutes.  
“The Wendigo can wait, baby boy,” Dean replied mischievously, running his hands through Sam’s hair, now damp with sweat. The boys weren’t sure they ever wanted to get picked up from camp, and they both went to bed each night feeling a little differently after that. Dean didn’t hide his subtle touches anymore, openly kissing Sam’s hand each night or rubbing circles on his cheeks to wake him in the morning. The two of them even spent the whole night under the same covers one night, not caring when the counselor found them like that the next morning. They knew they had a new nightly routine for when their dad was gone on hunts from now on.


End file.
